


A Series of Ficlets

by alliebird58



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliebird58/pseuds/alliebird58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unrelated ficlets, most of them prompted from tumblr. Posted here for convenience!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Reunion 
> 
> For idristardis over on tumblr

Macintosh generally applauds himself on being a sensible, level headed sort of guy. He doesn’t like to jump to conclusions or needlessly worry about situations. At least, he didn’t use to worry about things. But then he went and fell in love with a headstrong, fiery queen who didn’t have much regard for her own well being. So he had to start worrying about her. A lot.

It’s a fact that he’s come to accept over the years. Merida doesn’t like to be told no, and while he can usually talk her out of anything too rash or endangering, he is also very, very bad at denying her what she wants. More than once the situation ends up with Merida haring off to do some odd job or going off with a group of clansmen on some raid, and Macintosh is left at the castle fretting over her well-being. Yes, he knows his queen is the best warrior in the land and he really doesn’t need to worry. But he’s a helpless fool who is head over heels in love, and he will be damned if something happens to her while he sits by.

Which is how it comes to stand that Macintosh is sitting next to Lady Elinor, conducting one of the normal twice weekly sessions where the commoners can come bring their problems to the royals. He’s not really listening so thank the gods for the Queen Mother’s presence or nothing would be accomplished. Merida had gone off to the southern border, leading a strike party to take care of rumors of bandits terrorizing the people in that area. Merida and Macintosh were due to be married nigh a month from the day she left, but the whole thing was supposed to take only a bit over a week, so the council had let her go. Everyone figured Elinor could take care of any details concerning the wedding that might come up (she had been doing most of the detail work anyway, so it wasn’t really a change in arrangement), and Macintosh needed a chance to face the people of the land without Merida by his side.

But it has been almost two and a half weeks since Macintosh has heard from his queen, and he is absolutely overcome with fear.

Every day that goes without word of Merida sees him growing more and more anxious. Elinor, too, is growing uneasy. Lord Dingwall has already taken a group of men out to the southern border in search of the queen (Macintosh begged the council to go, but they refused before the request was past his lips, saying Her Majesty would never forgive them for letting him leave). So now they are simply waiting.

There’s a clatter of chairs and a murmur of people around him. Macintosh stumbles to his feet, slightly dazed, as he realizes that court is over and the people have begun to filter out of the throne room. He’s out of it, completely absorbed in running through the worst case scenario of what has become of the woman who means more to him than anything in world. The giant door to the throne room bangs open, and Macintosh is so distracted that he misses the gasp that sweeps through the room. Lady Elinor nudges his shoulder, and he turns a raised eyebrow to her. She jerks her head towards the door and he looks to see Merida, pale and bruised, leaning heavily against the arm of Lord Dingwall. The queen looks a wreck, and his heart stutters in his chest at the sight of her, but Mac tells himself that she’s alive, and relief sweeps through his body.

His reaction is automatic, feet moving towards where she is without thinking. Everyone in the throne room has dropped into a bow at the recognition of Queen Merida, and he makes his way through the crowd easily. He stops roughly a foot from when she stands, and they’re just staring at each other, and gods he can’t believe she’s actually standing before him.

“Clear the room,” his voice wavers as he issues the order to those around him. Slowly, people make their way past the two. Macintosh steps to pull Merida in his arms, taking her weight so Lord Dingwall can leave. Mac gives a moments attention to his friend, taking in his roughed up appearance, and nods slightly. Dingwall offers him a smile, claps him once on the back, and leaves, closing the door to the throne room behind him.

It’s just Merida and Mac now, standing in the center of the giant room, and he is able to better take in his queen’s state. Incredibly pale, cuts mar her beautiful face and arms. There’s a gash in her dress, and Mac can see where some sort of sword has gone through her calf muscle, and he assumes that’s why she can’t bear her own weight. Mud and dirt are caked to her dress and her hair.

When he sees a bright red, angry line just at her neck, his heart threatens to stop beating as he realizes just how much danger he sent her into, and he can’t take it. Macintosh pulls her into his arms roughly, burying his face into her curls. Merida lets out a little gasp of pain (he can’t see the bruises that cover her rib cage), before wrapping herself into him.

It isn’t long before she can feel wetness trickle down her neck, and feel the body holding her tightly begin to shake. She pulls back to see tears streaming down Macintosh’s face; she’s never seen this sort of raw emotion from him and its a bit awe-inspiring to realize this outpouring of feelings is all because of her. She sucks a breath in and Merida doesn’t realize she’s crying until his shaking hand gently wipes the tears from her own eyes. Merida half launches herself back into his arms, face planted into his chest. They cling to each other through the storm of tears, offering strength and love with their embrace.

He pulls away, taking in the sight of his Merida, battered and bruised, but still standing.

“Merida, my queen, I have never been so happy to see ye in my entire life,” the relief is evident in his voice, and holding her in his arms is slowly loosening the tightness in his chest. She chuckles, and then hisses slightly as the pain works through her ribs.

“I’m pretty happy to see ye as well,” her admission is quiet, and Macintosh can hear the rough edge of her voice. The pain that laces her words cuts him to the bone, and he finds himself burying his face back into her hair.

“You are not allowed to leave my side ever again, my love.” He murmurs quietly, and he feels her smile into his chest.

“Ye know I canno’ do that Mac. My people…our people need me.”

“I know,” the reluctant sigh whispers across her hair as he gently grasps her shoulders, pulling her back just enough to look into her eyes. Macintosh tilts her chin up towards his face, leaning forward to brush a gentle kiss across her lips. “Yer heart is for yer people, first and foremost. It’s one o’ the things I love most about ye,” Merida is about to protest slightly, but is cut off by another brush of his lips against hers.

“But ye are not leaving my side for a good long time, ye hear me? If ye go into the field again, I will be by yer side, my queen. I would never be able to live with myself if somethin’ happened to ye and I did nothing to keep ye safe.”

“I suppose I can deal with that,” her voice is watery, shaking with tears as she takes in the fierce protectiveness rolling off Macintosh in waves. He swings her up into his arms, kissing her hard, before giving her a wide grin.

“Ye better deal with it, my love. You are goin’ to be stuck with me for a very long time.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wordsy and feelsy and altogether not the most exciting thing I’ve ever written but I do so love expounding upon the feelings that happen behind an action. Also just a tad bit poetic, or at least that’s the way I read it in my head. I think writing feelings is one of my favorite things to write.

Merida is not so very familiar with the physicality of relationships. Sure, as a wee lassie she had maybe a kiss or two, hidden behind the stables where nobody could see. But the emotion that rose through her body at such contact, however chaste, brought about strange feelings that were…distracting, at best. She made a vow, when she was young, to never let such emotions get in the way of her one true desire: ruling.

So when it’s years later, crown firmly in her grasp, and she’s suddenly staring down a courtship with the one man who she never would have imagined, she’s faced with the uncomfortable realization that she is woefully unfamiliar with the workings of intimacy. Aye, she knows well enough how it goes, knows the basics and the mechanics of it. But she is wholly unprepared for the feelings.

Macintosh rises to the occasion of teaching her, and Merida is a quick study. She learns to love the feel of Mac’s arms around her body, the feel of his lips pressed firmly against her own. She learns to give as well as she gets. And at first, that’s enough for her…but then it’s not.

And then, then she learns to love the feel of… well, other physical activities. There’s burning heat that licks at her skin, threatens to consume her from the inside out, when Mac presses her against the wall of her bedchamber and kisses her so fiercely she can’t remember her own name. There’s the shuddering breath that leaves her body in a whoosh when she stands before him in nothing but her flimsy shift, and his hands roam her body freely. Her heart stutters in her chest, threatens to stop working completely, when she lays with him for the first time, flesh to flesh, and she sees the swirl of passion and awe and desire in his eyes.

The first time he plays her body like a finely tuned instrument, pressing here and there, biting softly and pressing insistently to draw the desired moans from her chest, well, she sees stars and is positive that her soul is unleashed to dance in the heavens.

Merida knows that this behavior is a far cry from “proper” but she can’t find it in her to care a whit. Macintosh makes her feel alive in a way that nothing in life has prepared her for, and she relishes the moments when the two can find peace among the chaos of ruling and a courtship before the public eye.

\-----

There is one night, in particular, that Merida remembers with startling clarity.

It had been a quiet, easy night. Surprising, really, considering the amount of clansmen that were crowded into the dining hall. The men were laughing, taking discourse on a new lady one of the lad’s was courting - a beautiful lass with dark, loose curls, shining blue eyes, lithe, soft curves. They congratulated the lad on his new, fine catch, which lead to talk of other lassies the men were seeing. Merida was used to such conversations; she was with these men day in and day out. So she laughed along with them, throwing in her input here or there.

Mac had sat back, watching Merida’s face - the strain slowly seeping through her body. Merida made an offhand comment at one point, mentioning that she “wasn’t much to look at,” joking that poor Mac had gotten the short end of the stick - which caused a huge roar of laughter from the group of men around her. Macintosh, though, had sat back at a complete loss of words, unsure of how his beautiful, stunning queen could entertain such thoughts.

That evening, Mac had escorted Merida back to her chambers, and instead of bowing at her door like was normal, he pushed her through the doorway with a soft kiss. That soon multiplied into two, then three, more and more intense and insistent. Merida had pushed back quickly, fire working a course through her veins, but he would have none of her rushing.

When he kissed her, she could feel him breathing the word love into her soul, and branding it onto her skin for the world to see.

That night, Mac pressed her softly into the mattress of her bed, telling her she was not allowed to move a muscle, and promised to show her just how beautiful he thought she was. He removed her gown slowly, mouth working ardently over ever silky patch of skin he came into contact with; traveling over the reddened skin of her chest and the soft plain of her stomach. His hands caressed every inch of her body and reveled at every moan and breathy whisper of his name he could pull from her lips (more than a few, he could be sure). That night he watched her rise higher and higher, edged on by insistent hands and lips and teeth and tongue, until she shattered completely beneath him, and it was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen. Her entire body flushed red, back arched to reach into his touch, hair fanned out like a wave of brilliant flames - there was no sight better in the entire world, he was sure.

Macintosh takes her slowly after that, in an unhurried, reverent fashion. Every worshipping touch and kiss seemed to reach Merida in a place far beyond what she normally experienced. It was as if he was working his way through her skin, bleeding into her soul, into the very essence of her being. And when they both explode, they fall away into stardust and love, love, love.

That was the night when Merida finally, finally understood what people meant by the term making love. She had always thought it silly and contrived, but from that moment on, she understood how the feel of skin on skin could feel more like two souls twining together to dance among the stars. When they made appearances the next morning, both were sure that the evidence of the previous night still lingered in the air around them, declaring for the entire world the combining of two into one.

They sat next to each other to eat (not a normal occurrence, Merida usually only pops in quick enough to grab something light, preferring to begin her day soon as possible) hands connected the entire time. Mac leaned over halfway through his meal, free hand winding through her hair to pull her close and press his lips to hers firmly, breaking away only when oxygen became a necessity. The queen was caught off guard, as Macintosh tended to keep such outward displays of affection a bit more hidden. He pulled her into his arms roughly - she thinks she catches the glitter of tears in his eyes, which steals her breath - and whispers a rough I love you into her hair. Something warm explodes in her heart and though he’s said those words to her dozens of times before, she has never believed them more than in that moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from probalicious17 over on tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy and cheesy and just ugh so adorable. I love these two more than words can express.

Merida feels a bit like she did when she was a wee lassie, sneaking through the corridors in the late hours of the evening. The stone floor is cold against her feet, and her usually warm dressing gown isn’t doing much to combat the chilled air that permeates the castle during the dead of winter. 

This sneaking about the castle under the cloak of night is a habit that began early in childhood, when she would wander down the halls in search of her ma and da’s room. Sometimes because of nightmares, sometimes because she simply wanted the warmth and comfort of her parents steadying presence. It continued well into her teenage years, when she would wander down to the kitchens to talk with the night staff and perhaps steal a few biscuits that would always be waiting, or when she would sneak to her mother’s private chambers to talk about whatever was plaguing Merida’s thoughts. 

Apparently it’s a habit that dies hard, because at the age of 27 she still roams the castles darkened halls at night. Sometimes the destination is her mother’s room or the kitchens, but more oft than not she seems to wind up at Lord Macintosh’s door, seeking that same warmth and comfort she once found from her parents. Sleep never comes easy (she has far too much on her mind), but laying by his side made her bones melt and her thoughts slow enough for dreams to overtake her.

But on this particular night, Merida had already been to Mac’s room, and finding him not there (bloody bastard, what use was it courting someone if he wasn’t where she needed him?) her feet had turned towards her mother’s room. The cold of the floor made its way through her thin stockings, and when she finally reached her mother’s chamber, seeing warm light seeping through the crack under the door made Merida breathe a sigh. 

She approaches, raising a hand to knock gently when she hears the unmistakable murmur of voices coming from within. Her body freezes, confused at who might be calling upon her mom at such an hour. Leaning closer, she listens intently to determine who is keeping her ma company. 

She easily recognized the sounds of her brothers - Hamish, Hubert and Harris had also inherited the wandering trait and tended to explore the castle’s depths during the evening hours. But what does shock Merida was to hear the deep baritone of Merintosh’s voice mingled with the soft tenor of her brother’s and the lilting soprano of her mother’s. 

Vaguely, somewhere in the back of her mind, she realizes that what she’s doing is eavesdropping, and the proper thing was to either announce her presence or get lost. 

“I graciously thank ye, milady, for seein’ me at such an hour,” Macintosh’s deep voice made her heart stutter just the bit, and her interest was piqued enough to keep her feet firmly in place.

“Aye, ‘tis no problem at all. Though I’ll admit to bein’ a bit curious as to why this meeting had to be so secret.”

“…And why we had to be here!” That was Hamish. Or was it Harris? No matter. 

“And why couldn’t Mer know?” 

The other two boys voiced their agreement before her mother shushed them. 

“I am sure Lord Macintosh will explain, if ye give him a breath to speak.” There was humor running through her mother’s words, and she could hear the tinkling of glasses as someone poured drinks. 

There was a moment of silence, not necessarily uncomfortable, but it held an air of expectation. 

Merida heard Macintosh clear his throat slightly, and take a breath. 

“Right then. I suppose the best way to go about this is get straight to the point, aye?”

“Aye, that is generally how it works when ye want someone to know something,” one of the boys responded cheekily, only to be tutted by their mother. Merida had to hold back her own chuckle. Sharp tongues seemed to run in the family. 

“Milady, ye know how much I care about yer daughter?” 

Wait, what did she have to do with this secret meeting? Merida pressed farther into the door, listening with baited breath. 

There comes a deep sigh from her mother, “Yes, Lord Macintosh, I’m aware. What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Lady Elinor, Yer Highnesses…I want to ask for Merida’s hand in marriage.”

There’s nothing but silence from inside the room, and Merida stumbles backwards, reeling from the shock of Mac’s words. She knew she should leave, and with all due haste, but her body was frozen.

“I expected something of this nature, when ye asked to meet with us all. You’ll have to forgive me though; it’s still a wee bit of a shock.” 

“Aye, of course, lady.” 

Elinor sighs, and Merida can distinctly hear the weariness in her voice. “You are a good man, Cothric. You have come a long way since that day years ago when ye shot for my daughters hand,” both Elinor and Mac chuckle at the old memory. Merida herself smiles at the door, entranced by the conversation she’s definitely not supposed to be hearing. 

There’s a rustling of skirts, and Merida assumes her mother has moved - perhaps pacing the floor in thought. 

“And I also know that ye love my daughter. Am I correct?”

“Aye, ma'am. More than anything. She’s…my entire world.” There’s an honesty that rings loud and clear through his words, and Merida feels tears building, clinging to her eyelashes, threatening to rain down her cheeks. She takes a stuttering breath in and knuckles her eyes furiously. 

“Boys, what are yer thoughts? I’m sure Lord Macintosh wants to hear 'em presently.” 

Merida hears the quiet voices of her brothers, and she can just imagine the three of them huddled together, discussing the pros and cons of their elder sister marrying. The thought brings a watery smile to her face. 

“Well, Mer seems to like ye well enough,” both Macintosh and Elinor snort at that, because it’s a gross under exaggeration, “and except for that time where ye kidnapped us, you’ve always been nice,” there’s a chuckle that takes the room at the mention of the lord’s attempt to steal the crown, as if it were nothing more than a very good joke. The levity leads her to believe that her brothers have had quite a few conversations with the lord at hand about the whole precarious situation. 

“Ye know, we don’ really want to give our sister up at all. But we know ye make her happy…and if we have to let her go at some point, well, havin’ ye as a brother might not be so bad.” 

Merida lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

Elinor sighs heavily once more, “I’m very much the same mind as the boys, Cothric. Merida is my baby girl, and always will be. It’s very difficult to think her a woman who should be gettin’ married. But to be completely honest, I don’ think there’s a man better suited to be by her side in the entire kingdom.” 

A quiet, excited squeal comes out of Merida’s, and she quickly clamps a hand over her mouth. 

“So…is that a yes, then? I can ask her?” Macintosh’s voice is so small, but so incredibly hopeful, and it causes something to constrict in Merida’s heart. 

“Yes, Lord Macintosh, you may absolutely ask my daughter for her hand in marriage,” the smile in Lady Elinor’s voice is evident, even to Merida. Mac let’s out a whoop and suddenly there’s such a cacophony of chatter from the room that Merida can’t keep straight who is saying what. A tiny grin blooms slowly on her face and tears cloud her eyes. 

All at once she finds her legs unable to support her weight sufficiently, and she braces herself on the wall to stay upright. She slowly makes her way down the hall back to her own chambers, leaving behind the happy, joyful meeting she wasn’t supposed to hear, but is so glad she did. 

Slipping through her door, Merida sits down heavily in the seat before the dying fire. Breathing once, then again, she slowly manages to collect her thoughts. The small smile still rests on her face, and the thought of getting to marry Mac causes butterfly wings to beat delicately in her stomach. 

Married! Sure she had thought about it, especially when she was a young lass. But the years had more or less stolen such childish thoughts from her. It wasn’t until her and Mac had fallen together that she had even allowed herself to begin dreaming of such things again. To sit with the knowledge that there was someone just down the hall who loved her enough to take on the tedium of the life she lived was enough to lighten her being so much Merida was sure she’d fly away. 

Deep within her soul, she knew without a doubt that she would never find another to love her like Macintosh did. He was her other half; unafraid to challenge her, but also her biggest supporter. With Mac by her side, Merida felt truly unstoppable, and the weight of ruling was eased. 

The dying light of the fire and the unexpected emotional roller coaster was enough to steal the last of the energy from Merida’s body. Slinking into bed and pulling the comforter snug around her, warmed from within by the knowledge of just how loved she is, sleep comes easily.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a fun lil starter prompt from the darling thereisnolumos over on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be a starter for a 300 word drabble, but I know my own abilities and I can’t write anything in 300 words…so I aimed for 600. I am just helpless when it comes to these two Scottish dorks (Helpless from Hamilton plays in the background somewhere).
> 
> It’s just fun and a little sexy (maybe? idk). Enjoy my darlings!

Merida is circling the edge of the festivities, congratulating herself on another successful gathering of her people (though she guesses the success might have less to do with her, and more to do with the fine ale that she has been incredibly generous with). She has had….four, no, five glasses herself and she’s walking that fine line of giddy happiness and flat out drunk. The room is buzzing with laughter and heat from the sheer amount of bodies, and Merida is contemplating stepping outside for fresh air when an arm wraps hard around her waist, pulling her backwards into a darkened hallway. She has half a mind to yell, but there’s a hand clasped firmly across her mouth, and she starts to squirm in her captors grasp. That is until she feels a pair of lips working down her neck and stops just long enough to realize that she knows these arms all too well. 

“Mac what in the name of seven hell are ye doin’?” She tries to sound suitably cross, but it’s hard to think with ale flowing through her blood and his arm snaking farther up her waist. 

“My queen, ye look beautiful, and I’m truly sorry to pull ye away from the festivities, but right now I need ya somethin’ fierce.” His voice is deep, rough with need as he presses a kiss just behind her ear, and then sucks hard at the sensitive spot. Her knees give way just a bit, stars flashing across her eyes briefly. Merida turns in his arms to face him, as her own hands come up to fist in Mac’s hair. 

“Need me how, Lord Macintosh?” She meant her voice to come off flirty, but instead it comes out breathy and harsh with unrestrained want. She leans up on her tiptoes to press a kiss firmly against his mouth. Merida can feel a low grumble work through Mac’s chest, and he takes two steps and has her pressed against the wall. 

“Presently, I need ye in my bed,” he noses her head to the side, encouraging her to expose more of her neck to him, and he kisses his way up to her ear, leaving a burning trail of fire along her skin as he goes. 

“Yer body against mine,” Mac’s hand that had been situated at her waist wanders lower, rubbing deep circles into her outer thigh, and each press coils something tighter in her stomach. His breath against her ear causes goosebumps to rise along her neck. 

“…preferably without clothes,” A breathy moan slips out of Merida’s mouth, and if she wasn’t already at this man’s mercy, she certainly is now. 

Macintosh takes a step away from the wall, pulling Merida with him. He presses a hard kiss to her mouth, hands coming up to card through her fiery curls. His teeth bite hard at Merida’s bottom lip, causing a shudder to run through her body. Merida thinks, for a moment, how ridiculous this looks, Queen Merida and her suitor, necking in a secluded corridor like a pair of new loves (though in her defense, they are new loves, so really she doesn’t care. Especially when he kisses her like she’s something important and precious and more than just a means to a crown…like she means something to him).

“So, do you wanna get out of here, milady?” She flashes a cheeky smile at him, and before she can verbalized an answer, Mac swings her up into his arms, a dark grin sliding onto his face. 

“Aye, milord. Please…” he cuts off the rest of her sentence with a swift kiss, leading her through the castle. Yes, she thinks briefly, this evening has definitely been a success.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday's and betrothals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for betrothal fics, y'all. This is my third for Merintosh. I have a problem. I also had birthday's on the brain when I wrote this. So enjoy the fluffy goo for what it is.

Merida was not a fan of birthdays.

Or more specifically, she wasn’t a fan of her own birthday.

She loved celebrating her Ma’s birthday.

Spoiling the triplets on their birthday was something that she relished, especially since taking the throne. Her boys deserved to be honored, and Merida loved getting to plan a celebration where they were the center of attention, on the receiving end of all the well-wishes, and she could momentarily fade into the background.

And without a doubt, she truly adored getting to lavish attention on Macintosh on his birthday. Almost three years together, and nothing brought her more joy than showing him just how much she loved him. True, those three words passed her tongue freely and often, but having an extra special reason to express her often overwhelming feelings for Mac was rewarding in an entirely different manner.

But her own birthday? She did not enjoy.

Hated.

Dreaded, even.

She was queen, damn it, and she did not another day that was solely centered around her.

Her Ma had explained that celebrating her birth was something that her people wanted - and more importantly expected. Mac had offered similar sentiments late one night sitting in front of her fire, as he wrapped her firmly in his arms and she burrowed snugly into his embrace, relishing the flit of butterflies that beat through her stomach.   
She was a Queen Beloved, he said, and no amount of whining and belly-aching would change the fact that people wanted to celebrate her.

And after so many years of fighting the issue, Merida resigned herself to bearing the festivities and feasts in her name with a semblance of decorum.

(“Semblance of decorum” meaning she only started scowling after about the seventh toast of the evening, and her half-hearted smiles were almost passable as sincere. Almost.)

So when Merida woke on the morning of her twenty ninth birthday in a terrible mood, to the loudest, most impressive storm the highlands had seen in years, she couldn’t help but revel in the poetry of it all.

But beyond that the day was…different. Previous birthdays had seen an overwhelming crush of people wishing her a joyous day and a steady stream of those vying for a moment of her time. But on this day, the throngs of benevolent subjects were absent. Her Ma stopped by her rooms early in the morn to press a chaste kiss to her   
forehead and wish her a good day. Her brothers came by later to drop off a basket of her favorite sweets. A few other miscellaneous gifts arrived throughout the day, but beyond that, there was no mention of her birthday at all.

It was at once gratifying and disconcerting.

Merida retreats to her bedchamber after supper that evening, still highly suspicious about the lack of pomp surrounding the day (not that she’s ungrateful, mind). She sinks onto her bed with a deep exhalation, letting her eyes slip shut, only to be startled awake moments later by a sharp knock. She mumbles something that must sound enough like, “enter” to warrant someone slipping into her room and letting the door shut quietly.

She feels a warm hand gently stroke the side of her face, and cracks an eye open wide enough to see Mac kneeling at the side of her bed, a soft smile pulling at his lips, love alight in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, Mer.”

His words are soft, barely there, and Merida grins. She turns to lay on her side, one hand propping up her head to meet his tender gaze.

“Thank you. Yer the first one to say those words to me all day.”

“Oh aye, I know that. Me and her Ma arranged it so nobody would make a fuss over ye today. It’s one of my presents to ye.”

Merida isn’t able to stop the laugh that bubbles out of her chest. A truly remarkable gift, indeed.

Sitting up, Merida slides over on the massive bed, patting the empty space next to her in invitation. Wordlessly, Mac takes up the spot, leaning back against the headboard and pulling Merida into his chest.

“Thank you, Mac. Truly. Ye know how much my birthday rankles me. This is a wonderful surprise.”

“It was no problem, love. Ye know I would give ye anything yer heart desired. And if what ye want is to celebrate yer birthday in peace, that’s what ye shall get.” He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, his words soft and steady, breathed into the tangle of her curls.

A comforting warmth settles over them, until a prickle of awareness manages to wriggle into Merida’s brain.

“Wait, ye said this was one of my presents. There’s more?” She pulls back to look into Mac’s eyes, gaze weary and skeptical and a shade excited.

“But of course there’s more. The woman I love deserves the moon and the stars and nothing less.” He gives her a wink and presses his hand over her eyes. She huffs in impatience, hearing him chuckle, and when he removes his hand Merida is met with the sight of a full bouquet of blooming roses.

“Oh, Mac, they’re lovely.” Merida takes the flowers with a gentle touch, bringing them to her nose and inhaling deeply. She leans back once more into waiting arms, resting her back against his front, still gazing admiringly at her roses.

“Mer…there’s something else I think we need to celebrate today.” Macintosh’s words come out quiet, just the tiniest bit shaking. She’s left utterly confused.

“What else is there?”

Mac fumbles for a moment, plucks the flowers out of her hands, lays them aside, and breaths into her ear.

“I was dearly hoping we could celebrate our betrothal.”

One of Mac’s hands is wound firmly around her waist, and the other comes up to present a gold band with a small, perfect, shimmering diamond. All of a sudden Merida finds it hard to breath. She jerks back to look into his eyes and she’s surprised to see an edge of nerves and uncertainty mixed with hope and dazzling love.

“I know this has been a long time comin’, but I wanted to do this today. On yer birthday. So even if I can’t celebrate you, maybe we can celebrate us instead.” Merida can’t find words, but her emotions are boiling over, and she can feel the tears welling in her eyes.

“My darling girl, will ye marry me?” He doesn’t even have the words all the way out of his mouth before she throws her arms around his neck and crashes her lips to his. His arm wraps firmly around her waist, holding her to his body as his mouth seizes hers in a hot, desperate kiss that leaves them both reeling. Merida feels the tears slip over, and Mac cradles her head, brushing away the tears as they come hard and fast.

“I dearly hope all these tears are from happiness, my love.” Merida breathes, harsh and rapid, heart leaping into her throat, and nods her head frantically.

“Yes,” is the only word Merida can form, repeated over and over, as Mac positively beams at her and slides the ring onto her finger with shaking hands. Her hand fists in his hair, as the other comes to lay gently against his cheek and she pulls him into another kiss, softer and less frantic than before. It’s a kiss that whispers promises of happiness and laughter and love and most importantly forever.

Merida leans her forehead against Mac’s shoulder as he rubs soothing, warm circles into her lower back.

“Mer?”

“Hmmm?”

“Ye know how I said we wouldn’t make a big deal of yer birthday?”

“…Yes…”

“Well I may have told yer Ma that I was planning to ask for yer hand today…and there may be a room full of people downstairs waitin’ to congratulate us.”

Merida barks a laugh, sudden and bright, and the thought of a room full of people ready to celebrate her….celebrate them isn’t daunting at all.

It’s pretty perfect.


	6. Storybrooke Vignette #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All because of some jeans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody on tumblr requested different Storybrook vignettes ages ago, including a story of Mac seeing Merida in jeans for the first time. Well all of a sudden my muse got inspired and...then this happened.

Realm hopping is no easy task. The lines between worlds are constantly shifting, and to cross realms requires magic beans which are not so very accessible. 

Or it requires a witch who seems to have made some sort of deal with the devil (or Hades,more probably). Because the potions she creates are able to accommodate inter-realm travels. 

They cost an arm and a leg and probably a first born child, but the price is never too high for Merida to pay. 

Despite her first time in Storybooke being anything but pleasant, Merida finds that she feels some sense of kinship with the former dark one Emma and her insane pirate lover. So she likes to visit on occasion. The first time she makes the jump she remember how sickly such travel makes her feel, but she has a wonderful time despite the queasiness. She goes by herself and ends up staying three days longer than originally planned. 

When she gets back Mac nearly chews her head off for worrying him. She at least has the presence of mind to look suitably bashful as he spends the better part of an hour explaining why she simply _can't do such things._  

The second time she attempts the trip Mac point blank refuses to let her go on her own. He reminds her, gentle but firm, that he has more than just a queen to loose should something go wrong; she's the love of his life and he is duty bound to protect her with every breath he draws. 

So somehow they compromise and Mac ends up coming along. He's not familiar with the strange land without magic, only knowing the pieces of information that Merida has shared after her trips. Luckily she's well versed in the ways of this lands now and finds herself excited to share this strange, fascinating world with him. 

He takes everything weird and unusual in with stride, and it impresses her more than a little bit how well he adapts. By the end of that first night Merida watches on as Mac, appropriately dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a button up shirt (that caused her heart to stop when he walked out of the dressing room of the store), sits at the center of a group of towns people; he's telling some story or another, and has them all hanging off his every word. 

She does not necessarily appreciate the exorbitant amount of females hanging off his arms, though. Merida has no problem admitting her jealousy to herself, though she's loath to admit it to anyone else. 

"Your friend has made quite the impression, I see," Emma mentions as she slides into the empty seat across from her. 

"Aye, he's taken to this land like a fish to water." 

Granny brings Emma a basket of onion rings and Merida a plate of fries and hot coffee, and they eat in companionable silence, watching Mac and listening to his wild tales from back home. He's a born storyteller. 

"The girls seem especially interested in him," Emma remarks sagely, and Merida looks over just as a young girl leans in and whispers something in Mac's ear and traces a finger over the ridiculous (gorgeous) blue lines that curl around his bicep. Merida damn near sees red, and sucks in a deep breath. 

"Mhmm, though I don' know what they see in him." Merida grumbles into her half finished cup of coffee with disgust, and her words draw a laugh from Emma. 

"Well, I imagine they see the same things you do." Her teasing tone earns a sharp glare from the red-head across the booth. 

"I don' know what yer on about." There's a sharp giggle from across the room and Merida's knuckles turn white from clenching her mug. 

"Oh it's not hard to figure out. You've never brought anyone - least of all a man - here before." Merida tips her head in acknowledgement. "Besides it's pretty damn obvious he's taken with you." 

She looks over at Mac right then, only to find his unwavering gaze already fixed on her. He's completely oblivious to the number of women around him, vying for his attention. He just gives her this heart-melting smile that damn near has her flying out of her seat and into his arms. Instead, Emma just laughs at her as Merida blushes an unflattering shade of red. 

"Aye, well I suppose he's a tolerable sort. But barely." Emma stifles another laugh and graciously changes the subject. 

\-----

If there are any doubts left in the townspeople’s minds about who exactly has Mac’s heart, they are quickly dismissed the next day. 

Emma, Mary Margaret, Merida and the youngest Charming are eating lunch at Granny’s after a morning of shopping; Mary Margaret is shocked when she finds out that Merida does not own a single, solitary pair of jeans after having spent near weeks in Storybrook, and promptly drags them all to a local shop to buy her some. Merida has to admit to herself, though she imagined jeans to be incredibly uncomfortable and stiff, they’re really quite pleasant. They allow freedom of movement and are wonderfully soft, so she buys two pairs without hesitation. 

But by far her favorite part is Mac’s reaction. 

He strolls in to Granny’s with Killian and Henry (something about an early morning boat ride and fishing; she really didn’t pay attention when he knocked on her door at a heinously indecent hour that morning) just as she’s standing to leave and make her way to the stables that are situated just on the outskirts of town. She wonders for about half a second if he’s going to acknowledge her drastic change in wardrobe; she’s gone from one of her perfectly normal gowns to a tight fitting pair of jeans and a soft, flowy top, so it’s a noticeable difference. His reaction is far more perfect than she could have hoped for. 

Mac’s gaze lands on her within moments of walking into Granny’s, and Merida watches with heavy breath as his eyes skim up and down her body – once, twice, and then a third time. He crosses the dinner with four heavy steps, grabs her hand firmly in his own, and drags her up the stairs to where their borrowed rooms are. 

They don’t even make it halfway up the steps before he whirls her around, presses her into the wall and kisses her so furiously that she’s left reeling. It’s overwhelmingly delicious, the heady warmth of his body melting into her own; she can feel every inch of him, and she loves it. Their kisses turn frantic, and she pulls away with a gasp as loss of air becomes too much. Mac trails soft, hurried kisses down the line of her neck and her breath catches. 

“What in gods name are ye wearin’, My Queen?” He asks between planting kisses along the slope of her jaw, and she isn’t even embarrassed at the breathy gasp that escapes her when he nips just a bit too hard at her pulse point. 

“They’re called jeans, Lord Macintosh. The same sort yer wearing right now, I might add.” 

She threads her fingers through his hair, bringing his mouth back to hers for another desperate kiss. He obliges her, and Merida greedily runs her tongue along the seam of his mouth, relishing the groan that she feels reverberate heavy in his chest. 

Mac’s hands skim the edges of her breasts, along the curve of her hips, and plant themselves firmly on her thighs, before he hauls her up into his arms. Reflexively Merida winds her legs around his waist and she clings to his shoulders, never once breaking their kiss. “Merida, dear gods, lass, please tell me ye have at least five more of these hiding in yer room.” 

She pulls her mouth from his, just long enough to let out a quiet laugh and murmur, “I only bought two pairs, Mac. Why? Do ye find this an agreeable thing for me to wear?” He carries her up the remaining few steps, pressing his lips to the exposed skin of her neck as he goes, biting every so often to draw a shaky breath from her. 

“Mer, ye look gorgeous and I swear I will buy ye at least four more pairs of these before we go home,” he stops them just outside the door of his room, setting her back on her feet. Merida spins around to open the door, and is surprised when she feels the warm expanse of his hands on her hips, pulling her back into his body so she can feel his arousal, hot and heavy against her. His tongue finds the shell of her ear, tracing lightly; a shudder wracks through her and Merida realizes that any hopes she had of making it to the stables today are gone. “But I daresay, My Queen, I shall enjoy removin’ them far more than seein’ them on you.” 

She laughs at his words, never doubting their truth, and pulls him into his room. 

 


End file.
